


Hotdog and baked beans

by MostFacinorous



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He hadn’t the slightest idea why last night had bothered him so much. Aside from Derek’s obviously growing boldness and his opinion that he could waltz in and just… just cook shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hotdog and baked beans

“Whaaat’re you up to?” 

He’s side eyeing me and I can see the suspicion and distaste written across his far-too-emotive face. 

“Lunch?” I can feel my brows knotting. Should be obvious what I’m up to. 

What else does one do in a kitchen with a frying pan on a stove?

“You’re cooking lunch.” He repeated slowly, like one or the other of us was an idiot. Or a young child. “In my kitchen. At two in the morning.”

“Your dad said he’d be gone for a couple of days, didn’t he? Law Enforcement convention?” 

“Right, but why are you cooking? Are you planning on using it to lure the Kamina or something? Oh God, please don’t lure it into my kitchen. If my dad comes back to holes in the house, I’m dead.” The babbling was about to start. I breathed sharply, and my nostrils flared. 

“Shut up Stiles. It’s for eating.”

“Why?” it was blunt, openly and honestly distrustful. 

I considered, taking my time to stir, keeping a reign on the way my temper flared and my wolf tried to snarl. 

“My stove doesn’t work.” 

“So… what you just eat cold food all the time? I mean I knew your place was like camping, but god!”

And then there was… pity? Derision. 

“Whatever. Here.” I spooned some beans onto a plate, and jabbed at a hotdog with a fork, leaving it in the meat when I shoved the dish at Stiles. 

He sniffed it, though we both knew with Stiles’ defective human nose, he wouldn’t be able to tell if there was anything in it. 

I glared until Stiles took a bite, then nodded to myself and shut off the stove. 

I turned to leave, and Stiles swallowed hurriedly. 

“Hey! Aren’t you eating?”

“Not hungry.” I pulled my coat off of where I’d draped it on the chair. 

“Oh my god you poisoned me didn’t you?” Stiles was staring at his food as though it might bite him. 

I turned, lifted Stiles’ hot dog, and bit a large bite off before dropping it on the plate. 

I don’t think I chewed, just swallowed. 

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

I left, and he stared. 

We didn’t trust each other, and he’d said so, plainly and bluntly, the way he did most things. 

I didn’t know why I expected that to have changed. 

\-----

 

Brain that doesn’t work right.

Arms and legs and a chest that won’t actually put on any muscle mass, no matter how much time he spends running for his life. 

Hair that, if allowed to grow out, was hugely greasy and just turned his face into a mess of pimples and zits and awfulness. 

Yeah, now he was done taking stock, he was definitely ready to face the day. 

He groaned and fell back onto his bed. 

He hadn’t the slightest idea why last night had bothered him so much. Aside from Derek’s obviously growing boldness and his opinion that he could waltz in and just… just cook shit. 

Which he’d definitely brought, because Stiles hadn’t bought hotdogs or canned baked beans. 

And it wasn’t like he’d cooked it for himself, either. He showed up to cook Stiles dinner at 2 in the morning. 

What. 

The hell.

How was this even his life?

And more than that, how did Derek know he’d forgotten to eat?

He flushed at the thought that he might have been listening in on him, or… sniffing up on him, or whatever, because with his Superman senses he would almost definitely know that Stiles had celebrated his first day home alone by turning up the volume on his porn and walking around the house in just his boxers. 

……Yeah. 

Yeah that thought couldn’t be unthunk. 

Damn.


End file.
